hey! Thought I'd check out your blog
🩺🎈💨 for Steve if you could? 👉👈💕💕
🩺- Medical
🎈- Bloating
💨- Eprocto
It's great that you should ask! Here's an extract from a fic I'm currently working on that caters to your ask!
Steve stands and strips his shirt off clumsily in a single tug, his hands trembling. The soft cotton of the garment slides down his arms and flutters to the floor, chest and shoulders bulging with muscle. At his waist, his pants seem to barely be able to contain his bulging gut, and his stomach extends several inches past his hips. It gurgles wetly as it stretches against the fitted waistband of his pants.
Standing briskly from his seated position, Bruce makes his way over towards the far wall where a small box of latex gloves resides alongside a small dispenser. He pulls on a pair, motioning towards the exam table. "Could you lie down, please?"
There's another wet gurgle from Steve's tummy, and then he lies down atop the clinic's exam table, placing his hands on either side of his body. He looks quite vulnerable in that position - even, dare one think it, helpless. His exposed belly stretches against his waistband in a very suggestive manner.
Upon securing the stethoscope around his neck, Bruce makes his way over towards the exam table where he stands above the man's rounded gut. It churns away like a factory, the red streak of a fresh stretch-mark painted just near his navel.
Steve exhales and shuts his eyes as the other man positions the stethoscope against his midsection. Down his sides near his hip bones, a dusting of thin stretch-marks is littered. The skin near his navel is slightly puckered and wrinkled from the expanding fat there, and the skin there is a slight, rosy red. As Bruce listen to the gurgling, bubbling sounds coming from Steve's gut, he hears something else: the low, wet rumblings of gas moving through the man's bowels like a tidal wave.
"Your stomach sounds really gurgly," he comments, using his free hand to feel about the area of which he is listening to. It is hard and firm.
Bruce can feel the bubbling of Steve's digestive tract from the outside, the vibrations from the gurgling, rumbling contents of his intestines. As he feels around the man's stomach, the other shudders and grumbles in mild discomfort, and then he feels it: a tremendous, wet bubble, moving through. Steve groans slightly as his tummy swells with yet more gas.
"Sorry if I'm hurting you at all-" the doctor sets his stethoscope aside, pressing his fingers above the other's navel, beneath his diaphragm. "Can you tell me how that feels?"
Steve whines softly as he feels Bruce's fingers pressing into the soft flesh of his gut. "Kinda tight. Like something wants to get out..." His voice trails off, the rumble of gas inside his belly building into a louder, more insistent growl.
Moving his hands to knead into the other's lower belly, now, along his large intestine and down beneath his navel where the colon resides, Bruce can feel more than hear as a particularly large swell of gas pushes its way passed his prodding fingers with a loud groan.
Steve can't help the way he groans loudly, his muscles tightening in discomfort as the gas pushes passed the doctor's hand. He grits his teeth as it continues to build and bubble inside him, his belly distending further and further. “My God... that's... a lot of gas...!”
"Is it stuck?" Bruce asks, tone seemingly innocent, as he presses down upon the hard swell. "Let it out, Steve - you'll feel better for it."
Steve takes a deep breath, and then another, and he relaxes a little as the gurgling continues. Bruce is almost positive he can hear the gurgling of gas moving through Steve's large intestine now. With a final, shuddering breath, the sounds finally subside, his large, distended belly growing quiet. He looks at the other, his eyes wide. His stomach is noticeably bigger than it was before.
Then, abruptly, the silence is torn into by the booming slap of the hot, rippling fart that erupts from between the man's quivering thighs. Its stench immediately permeates the room - the hot, wet odour stinging at Bruce's eyes as his nostrils are assaulted by the offending scent.
Steve, who has yet to sit up, is startled by the unexpected and forceful fart. He grits his teeth as both its force and its horrible stench hit him, and he curls slightly out of reflex. "Holy sh-... god." He takes another deep breath, visibly swallowing. "God, that was.... holy hell."
"That was... something, alright." The other fails to suppress the way his nostrils flare as they are burned from the inside-out by the penetrative odour. "How are you feeling after that?"
Steve shakes himself, slowly getting up from the examination table. He looks at his stomach, which seems to have taken on an extra inch or two in circumference since he arrived. His belly still gurgles and rumbles, and Bruce detects the presence of still more gas inside him. "I feel a little better, yeah. But... it feels like there's still a lot more..."
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a list of things matt jackson could be doing on bte to appeal to tumblr if he was serious about it
for legal reasons this is a joke and if anyone links it to him i will delete it so fast
do the coming out of the shower in a bath towel setup again but instead of panning up with a lingering shot of his feet (wrong website we're not feet fetishists??) instead have him stare into the camera with a smirk as he toys with the edge of the towel only for his face to drop and he says coldly "you don't deserve it," and walk away.
fail more at skateboarding tricks. absolutely wipe out. i want to see him fall on his ass nine-hundred times while attempting to stay on it for ten seconds. i want this segment to go on twice as long as the colt on the street segments
per @orange-catsidy, bounce on a trampoline while eating a popsicle
cradle the smallest possible baby in his powerful juicy arms. he should coo at it softly while saying something sweet about his kids growing up. after five minutes, the baby should spit up on him.
make more men backstage rub tanning spray on his bicep. make it a challenge, he flexes while the contestant has to keep rubbing it in while matt says things like, "you like that, don't you. you're into this, you freak. you missed a spot".
bring back the hair brushing segments. add in blow-drying and braiding. regular hair segments.
a regular segment where matt puts on a women's article of clothing a la the cracker barrel shirt, culiminating in a segment where he goes to put on his gear but it's britt/penelope/toni's tops. oopsies!
matt slowly takes off his shirt by crossing his hands at the hem and drawing the shirt slowly up over his head before saying "i'm a luxury few can afford"
force matt to play a game where someone names a important figure we all learned about in history class OR a current important figure who has been important in any field for the last 5-10 years. in either case, the person should be so well-known and significant that literally anyone off the street would be able to identify why that person is significant. every time matt gets one wrong, he gets a bucket of ice water dumped on his head. within 30 seconds of playing this game, he's wet and shivering and pathetic. he begs to be allowed to stop. brandon says, "matt, who are the wright brothers?" and matt says "weren't they in wcw????" and then gets iced again.
jump rope in form-hugging shorts again
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Racists be like, “Please stop singing the non-racist anthem! Can’t we just go back to the quietly racist anthem?”
Although “The Star-Spangled Banner” and all of its verses were immediately famous, Key’s overt racism prevented it from becoming the national anthem while he was alive, Morley wrote. There was no official anthem, and many people chose to sing other songs, like “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.”
Key’s anthem gained popularity over time, particularly among post-Reconstruction White Southerners and the military. In the early 20th Century, all but the first verse were cut — not for their racism, but for their anti-British bent. The United Kingdom was by then an ally.
After the misery of World War I, the lyrics were again controversial for their violence. But groups like the United Daughters of the Confederacy fought back, pushing for the song to be made the official national anthem. In 1931, President Herbert Hoover made it so.
“The elevation of the banner from popular song to official national anthem was a neo-Confederate political victory, and it was celebrated as such,” Morley wrote. “When supporters threw a victory parade in Baltimore in June 1931, the march was led by a color guard hoisting the Confederate flag.”
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